


Photograph

by Ishxallxgood



Series: We Keep this Love in a Photograph [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hannibal Loves Will, M/M, The keep their love in a photograph, Will Loves Hannibal, Will misses Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 02:55:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13090941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishxallxgood/pseuds/Ishxallxgood
Summary: Set between Digestivo and The Great Red Dragon.Will looks back at an old photograph of him and Hannibal.  While awaiting trial, Hannibal receives a curious letter from Will.Inspired by Ed Sheeran'sPhotograph





	Photograph

Will sat and stared at the three hundred dollar bottle of Chardonnay and wondered what in the world had possessed him to buy it. Of course he knew the answer. _Hannibal_. But is was not like he was going to be able to get Hannibal that bottle any time soon. There was no way in hell Alana would actually give it to him, even if it was going to be his birthday in a few days.

Will dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and rubbed. Once upon a time, Hannibal had been his friend. Once upon a time, it wouldn't have been a big deal for him to give Hannibal his favorite wine for his birthday. Once upon a time, he wasn't gutted and left drowning in Abigail's blood. Once upon a time, Hannibal would never have rejected him and cut into his skull. Once upon a time, the fire sparkled in their eyes.

Grabbing at the bottle, he rose to fetch the wine opener and popped the cork. No reason to let a perfectly good bottle of wine to go to waste. He chuckled dryly to himself as he raised the bottle to his lips, picturing the look of disbelief that would certainly of passed across Hannibal’s face.

A bottle of wine and three glasses of whiskey later, Will found himself clutching that Polaroid Bev has taken of him and Hannibal at that one holiday party god knows how many years ago. _Three_. His brain supplied.

They were so happy back then.

Sure, his brain was literally on fire and Hannibal was busy getting ready to frame him for a bunch of murders, but they were happy. He was happy. Blind, but happy. So incredibly happy. And this photograph was proof of that.

Will smiled bitterly at the picture in his hands. Hannibal beamed at him. Not at the broken hearted man sitting alone with an empty bottle of wine, but the picture him, whose eyes shone with mirth, and whose face radiated joy. Love.

Were they so in love? Will had thought so. Even though those words never passed through their lips. Even when that knife cut into him, he was held with such tenderness. _Love_ had radiated off of Hannibal as Will's blood poured from his _smile_. Love and betrayal. But Hannibal cut out his own heart and displayed it for him in the Norman Chapel. Hannibal rejected his forgiveness in the catacombs. Hannibal… Hannibal had told him that if he saw him everyday forever he would remember that time. Hannibal… he…

A tear landed on his fingers and he pushed all thoughts of Florence away.  All thoughts of rejection and unrequited love.

Will had been a fool to believe. To believe that Hannibal returned his love. To believe that there was anything left between them.

Setting the photograph aside he ripped a page out of the journal Hannibal had left behind and began writing.

 

* * *

 

Hannibal was surprised when Alana delivered his mail and first letter in the pile was one from Will. Looking over at her he raised an eyebrow, silently questioning her motives.

“I’m feeling generous today,” she said with a slight curl of her lip. “Consider it a birthday present.”

Slipping the letter from the envelope he unfolded it and stared disbelieving at the photograph nestled inside.

“I was surprised too,” Alana said with a hint of amusement in her voice.

He hadn't even realized that that photograph existed. It was most certainly a welcomed surprise, and perhaps one of the best birthday presents he had ever received in his life.

The longer he stared at the picture the more the joy of receiving it melted away. It defied all logic for Will to send this to him. The photograph was old, and obviously well loved. It contained within its delicate film a declaration of love and adoration, mostly on his part. The very thought that Will could so easily part with it caused his heart to ache.

Will had thoroughly rejected him.

Shifting the photograph aside, Hannibal continued to unfold the familiar paper. A small hope rose within him as he caught the faint scent of Bâtard-Montrachet and Ardbeg. 

 

> _Hannibal,_  
>    
>  _Loving can hurt._  
>    
>  _Loving can hurt sometimes, but it's the only thing that I know._  
>    
>  _When it gets hard, and you know it can get hard sometimes, it's the only thing that makes us feel alive._  
>    
>  _We kept our love in this photograph. Where our eyes are never closing. Hearts are never broken. And time's forever frozen still._  
>    
>  _So now you can keep me, inside the pocket of your jumpsuit, next to heartbeat where I should be. Keep it deep within your soul. Now you won't ever be alone._  
>    
>  _You know that when you hurt me, it's was okay because only words bleed. Deep in these pages I want you to know, I won't ever let you go._  
>    
>  _Now that you're gone… I still remember how you saved me. Carried me out from under Mason, and I heard you whisper through the night, “wait for me to come home.”_  
>    
>  _So, I've found that loving can heal. Loving can mend your soul. I swear it will get easier, remember that with every piece of you. For it's the only thing we take with us when we die._  
>    
>  _Wait for me to come home._  
>    
>  _Will_
> 
>  

He could feel Alana's eyes on him. Searching for a reaction to Will's letter, but his masks we're secure and he refused to give her anything. Folding the photograph back into the letter he tucked it into his breast pocket and continued to shuffle through the rest of his mail.

 

* * *

 

“Fuck,” Will cursed, emptying the contents of the drawer for the fifth time to no avail.

It was gone.

Will forced back the tears threatening to fall and threw the empty drawer against the wall. His mind was racing. It was impossible that he had misplaced it. It was always there. In that drawer. In that box of cherished memories. That box which contained that picture. An old spark plug from the first engine he worked on with his father. An old collar which belonged to Weegee, the first dog he ever owned. The very first lure he had made. And the journal Hannibal had left behind.

He didn't even know why he wanted the picture so badly right now. Only that he _needed_ it. Needed it to anchor him. To drown out that empty stare Hannibal gave him in court that day. To remind himself that once upon a time he was loved.

A choked sob escaped him. He clutched the journal to his chest. The last tangible piece of Hannibal left in his life. He wanted Hannibal. _His_ Hannibal. Not the Chesapeake Ripper. Not whoever that man was in Florence who discarded him and saw him as nothing more than his next meal. No. He wanted the Hannibal of that photograph.

Winston's whine brought him back to the present. To Buster's wet nose against his hand, sniffing fervently at the journal before settling his head on his lap. Wiping at his traitorous tears, Will took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down.

It was just a photograph. No reason to get emotional over something so trivial.

Only it wasn't just a photograph though. It was his anchor. His lifeline. It was the only spot of light left in his dreary life.

Perhaps it was better off gone. Perhaps this was a sign that he should stop clinging on to a past that will never be. To a future he cast aside. It would be better to forget Hannibal. To forget everything they shared. To forget the warmth of his eyes. The comfort of his touch. The conversations they shared.

What good was letting go if he refused to let go.

Getting up he picked the drawer up from the ground.  Righting it, he placed the journal into the box before returning it to the drawer.

 

* * *

 

The first time Alana took the letter and photograph away from him was also the last time Alana took the letter and photograph away from him.

There were many things Hannibal was willing to tolerate. The loss of his _privileges_ , his books, his drawings, his upgraded food. These were all things he could do without. There was nothing Alana or the institution could do or take from him that wasn't already done to him. The only thing he would not suffer stripped from him was the evidence of Will's love.

Three and a half orderlies later Alana returned to him what was rightfully his and they lived the next two years in relative peace.

When Hannibal first heard of the _tooth fairy_ he knew it was time for a homecoming. Three years with nothing more than a promise that Will still loved him. Three years of silence, hope revived every time he read those words Will gave up in a drunken stupor.  Three years of biding his time, waiting for the lure that would draw his Will back to him.

There was no way Jack would not drag Will back into this madness. There was no way Will would not seek his counsel. He was filled with absolute glee as he penned a letter to Will, warning him of Jack's request, knowing it may or may not tip him over the edge.

 

* * *

 

Will broke through the Atlantic gasping for air, choking on blood and salt water while soft hands hauled him up onto deck.  He reached blindly for Hannibal, but a heavy wool blanket draped across his shoulders thwarted his movements and he gave into the warmth.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but eventually he came back to himself and could hear Hannibal arguing with someone. Most likely the person who pulled them from the ocean. Most likely Chiyoh. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but Hannibal’s tone was firm, demanding.

Pulling the warm, scratchy blankets tighter around himself he slowly maneuvered himself closer to the voices.  Hannibal was indeed arguing with Chiyoh, a similar blanket draped across him, clutching at the gunshot wound.

Will tried to interject, break up their argument, but all he managed was a gurgle as the pain shot through his face. Suddenly two pairs of eyes were on him, the argument lost. Hannibal pushed away from Chiyoh and tried to make his way across the deck toward him.

“Hannibal!” Chiyoh insisted. “Stop this madness. You can barely move. Let me tend to your wounds.”

“No,” he croaked back, leveling her with a glare that would have caused a lesser man to crumble. Chiyoh merely held his stare and glared back. “Will, tell her. Or don't tell her, just nod, that we need to return to the house. Grab my things before the FBI gets there.”

There was a desperation in his voice that Will could not resist. Despite his better judgement to agree with Chiyoh, that Hannibal should get that wound tended to, he let his head drop into a nod.

Letting out a scoff, Chiyoh turned on her heel and moved back toward the wheel to turn the ship around. She docked the ship in a small aclove underneath the eroding cliffs and tossed a medical bag onto Hannibal’s chest before she disembarked and disappeared into the night.

 

**_Three years later_ **

 

Will was packing up the house for another move. Hopefully a more permanent one. Three years on the run and the FBI have finally forgotten about them.

It was surreal, the life they were living now. It reminded him of a life he thought lost to him. A life of warm eyes and soft smiles. Of a perfect love frozen in time forever in a photograph lost long ago.  Perhaps time did reverse and the teacup did come back together. Bonded in gold. Stronger and more beautiful than ever.

As he riffled through the desk in the study, removing the stack of passports and documents, a small folded letter slipped through and landed with a soft thud on the desk. The corner of an old Polaroid peaked out from the folds of the letter. Will pulled the photograph free, air escaping his lungs as he stood frozen, staring down at the one image forever embedded in his mind.

With trembling hands he unfolded the letter and was met with his own handwriting. He recognized the paper as one from that journal which still sat in that box. Tucked away in the back of his dresser, with that spark plug, collar, and lure. Molly must have gotten rid of it all by now, purged herself of everything that once belonged to him. A shame really. He would have liked to have that box back, even though it had been missing something. Something he now had back in his possession.

As he read over the letter he doesn't remember writing, emotions welled up within him. The words are foreign to him, but resounded in his mind. Even then, he loved him. Even then. Like he loves him now.

It's a little bit funny. How loving can mend one's soul. How he had always known that their only real separation was through death. How three years ago when he threw them off that cliff together, it was what he had aimed to do. Consummate their love through death.

He had him now. His Hannibal. The Hannibal from that photograph. The Hannibal who looked at him as if he hung the stars in the sky. The Hannibal who feels like home.

“Will?”

Will looked up from the letter, tears streaming down his face as he clutched the letter to his chest and met Hannibal’s eyes. A smile spread across his face as Hannibal slowly made his way across the room. “I’m home.”

In three swift steps Hannibal closed the distance and folded Will into his arms. “Welcome home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Weegee. Fucking Weegee. Who names their dog Weegee. xD
> 
> I was going to work that dog in somehow. I'm still low-key kinda sad that Weegee wasn't actually one of Will's dogs.
> 
> Come scream at me on [Tumblr](http://ishxallxgood.tumblr.com)


End file.
